


Where the roses never fade

by UMsArchive



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Yuri on ice is basically the series, actors!au, and the characters we know are the actors playing it, some of the characters will have different jobs in the industry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UMsArchive/pseuds/UMsArchive
Summary: Yakov Feltsman's planned storyline for his new TV series was meant to be that of personal journeys and struggles, devoid of cliche romances, but as he looks back through the filmed scenes up to their 6th episode, it dawns on him that the actors' chemistry was out of his control.(based roughly on Kubo's confession on having not planned that Victuri would become a romance but having figured they were in love along the way)





	1. Chapter 1

Yuuri fumbled in the waiting room, feeling really uncomfortable. He twisted and folded the script, scraping the pages’ edges with his nails. He’s never been part of an actor call-back of this proportion. He was surrounded by a large number of Asian men all looking a lot like him. Short, straight jet-black hair, round face, narrow bone structure and about the same height, wearing the required plastic glasses for the part, but looking much fitter and much more confident than Yuuri himself. 

When his agent, Celestino, had called and told him he was invited to a table reading with the other two main actors, who had already been casted, he was expecting maybe a couple more people, not ten. The kind of dynamic that they meant to build between the two and Juro (the actual centre of the story) was crucial for the storyline, apparently, so they were really picky in choosing the actor for the part. Yuuri wasn’t even sure what they were looking for. Aside from the physical description, their expectations were very vague. 

Yuuri’s resume clearly wouldn’t impress. He had only managed very insignificant parts in small production, nothing on the scale of what Juro!!! On ice was aiming to become. But he really needed the part. He would graduate college in a little over a month. His parents were questioning him about ‘serious professions’. This was a chance to show them he could actually make this work. ...he doubted it at this point, though.

He started fidgeting and sweating in his chair. Another ‘Juro’ came out of the meeting room. He didn’t look happy. Yuuri didn’t know whether to be glad or terrified. This one ‘Juro’ had looked pretty smug when he went in. He also had the most actor-like looks out of all of them; very good looking, too, but in a way that he could downplay his features as ‘plain’ as the cast call depicted Juro. And now that Yuuri thought better of it, he realized that was probably the approach to ‘plain’ a casting team would be looking for in a main character, right? Good acting and storyline aside, they needed some pretty faces to attract the ‘fangirls’, right?

“Which one of you is Yuuri-?”

“Me!” Yuuri sat up, shouting, flushed and mortified at himself the very next moment.

“Right,” the woman looked unimpressed, almost bored, definitely professional. She looked more like an actor than Yuuri did. 

He hugged his side sheepishly, following her towards the meeting room. She went in, waiting for him, but he paused at the door, breathed in. He had to at least try. If he messed this up just for being foolish, he’d always regret it. He straightened his back, finally passing through, the woman now rather impatient.

He scanned the table. At the head, there was an old balding, stern looking men, frowning and measuring Yuuri up and down - the main producer, Yakov Feltman, he guessed. At his left, there was a woman about the same age probably, doing the same. Yuuri chose to look on the right, instead.

Those were definitely the confirmed mains. And they did have the magazine faces, alright. In fact, Yuuri had seen both on and in magazines. He was staring right at Victor Nikiforov and Yuri Plisetsky and it made Yuuri think what the hell was he doing there, thinking he could be allowed to star ahead of these two.

Yuri Plisetsky was a current Disney star. He’s landed a role as an aspiring actor a few years ago and has gained fame quickly enough with his pretty face and strong demeanor. His success on the channel - which Yuuri still shamelessly watched at his age; it was, after all, part of the American culture itself - was often compared to that of Hannah Montana and, just like the actress who played her, it looked like Plisetsky was trying to get out and do more adult serious productions and leave that image behind. 

Victor Nikiforov… Yuuri wasn’t sure what he was doing here. It was well known that, aside from the great budget, popular productions, he liked doing ‘passion projects’, but really, as much as Juro!!! On ice was attempting to make it big, Victor was at his best in romantically involved characters, while Juro!!! On ice was meant to put romance aside for ‘other meaningful relationships’. Yuuri thought it best to leave behind the memory of his celebrity crush on said actor and many posters in his room, as well as an impeding thought that it was such a shame that even if he got the role, their characters’ relationship would be just a platonic one.

They weren’t as of yet sure how people will receive a series not centered around romance, when normally romantic relationship were such a grand matter in the fandom culture. And fans mean ratings. And ratings mean success and money. So, for now, they were testing the waters, having settled for only 12 episodes for a first season. 

“You are-,” Yakov was the one to address him first, as much as Yuuri dreaded it.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Yuuri gulped, trying to look back as confidently as he could manage.

Yakov looked him up and down mercilessly, scrutinizing. Although it was normal that Yakov would consider his physique against his vision and expectations of Juro, Yuuri still found it very awkward. 

“You’re not very fit for playing a figure skater,” he remarked dryly, looking back at his papers.

“He was still drafted keeping in mind the the physical condition of Juro post Sochi,” the mature lady next to him clarified, not even sparing Yuuri a glance. “Given the case, we would film his workout progress as it goes - give it a more authentic look, rather than ‘supposing’ he gained a few pounds.”

Well, that was a definite stab at his appearance, but as long as it worked on his side, he guessed it was alright.

Yakov just mumbled something concomitantly and directed Yuuri to sit down with a gesture - his eyes were still on the paper in front of him. “Let’s get through the reading, then,” he waved his hand impatiently and yawned.

“Alright, what should it be, Yakov?” Victor asked way too brightly in comparison to the general atmosphere in the room.

Yakov instructed them on which lines he was interested in and Yuuri opened his own script reluctantly, starting to wonder what the hell he was doing there, with these two actors so clearly out of his league of talent.

He looked down at his script, suddenly feeling out of place next to the two, wondering what the hell he was even doing there. Oh, that’s right, because some lady had considered maybe his actor-inconvenient extra weight might actually be convenient for their filming schedule. 

“Juro, you did well tonight, but I think your step sequence could use a little work-,” Victor had already started before he could pick himself up, momentarily confused by the name, but remembering the Russian and Japanese mains shared a name. The line seemed to come so easily and natural to Victor, like he had instantly transformed. 

“I did win, so who cares?” Plisetsky countered perfectly, just like Yuuri had envisioned his character as he had first read that script. 

Yuuri was only vaguely aware of it being his turn to talk as he recited from memory in a monotonously downright way, “Of course, he meant the Russian Juro. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to him… someday.” 

They were so good at it, Their lines were so fluid. Their lines were so on point spoken. Their expressions matched all expectations, the scripts literally brought to life. And Yuuri-

“A commemorative photo? Sure!” Victor’s gaze suddenly dropped on him, all sparks and enthusiasm that a human can fake without looking fake, unsettling Yuuri for a moment. Ah-

Yuuri’s eyes went wide for a moment, in surprise, before he sobered up, dejected. His tone and expression matched his mood, as he went, “I’m an idiot. Did I seriously think I could play on the same field as him?” He was no longer aware about the division between who he was and where Juro started. Because, really, the anxiety, the unmatched expectations. He had really thought he could relate to Juro, that he could build up that connection and bring him to life. But… Why would his passion and dedication matter, when he could be no match…?

He stood up, without realizing it, but feeling too defeated to matter, “Of course I ended up humiliated,” he said in the defeated manner that he could sense Juro mimicking, rather than Yuuri mimicking him. But he knew Juro would have his cliche dream come true, no matter that he didn’t actually have the entire script. But Yuuri-

“Cut!” he heard Yakov say, out of the blue. Well, if the length of how long he was allowed to go to said anything, he was altogether rejected, it appeared. “Thank you for coming, your agent will receive an answer and forward it to you,” he commented, scribbling something on his papers. 

As he was politely invited out now, he took one last look at Yuri and Victor, who watched him back with unreadable expression as actually good actors should, he guessed. The kind of actors Yuuri could not match. Perhaps he should leave this be a hobby, like his family advised him to.

He was not as lucky as to have made it in the industry early. He was not as lucky as to have had the proper guidance. He was sure even Celestino agreed to represent him only because he felt bad for the lame struggling actor, always exaggerating his character’s emotions and getting sidetracked because of that obnoxiousness. 

Maybe he should become more realistic about his goals, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Yakov looked at him through lidded eyes, alternatively musing sternly into his drink. "I've had a bad feeling about this ever since you volunteered to take the role like a good Samaritan that you aren't to help with the publicity, but don't overstep your boundaries," he grumbled, draining the glass and filling it up again.

 

"Why, Yakov, you promised you'd let me take some notes in directing and producing, now didn't you?" Victor asked languidly, his own first glass of whiskey barely touched.

 

Yakov almost rolled his eyes at that perfectly crafted unreadable actor expression Victor dared play on him of all people, but he decided to bite his tongue this one time - not for the youngster, but for his own tranquility for the evening.

 

"Taking notes doesn't mean you're getting involved in the decision making. This is not your usual, I told you from the very beginning. It's a tribute piece," he retorted on the ongoing subject all the same.

 

"Ah, yes," Victor waved his hand fleetingly, keeping his winner smile, "and I am not meddling with your concept. But I think choosing my co-star is something we should-"

 

"Choosing your co-star is something crucial, yes, and I'm not letting it ruined by your tendency in voting for the better ass," Yakov flipped him off once again, sitting up to retrieve a cigar.

 

"You know I always go for the more talent, too," Victor supplied offhandedly.

 

"More ass," Yakov huffed, lighting his cigar. "And you lost me at 'I actually met him at a party once and it was wild'. You're a professional. It's work, not a playground. You don't get to choose only the kids you like."

 

"Now, now, chemistry is important, Yakov - although not a must, yes. But fans love that, too, alright."

 

Yakov sighed. He was well aware he won't be able to get him off his shoulders unless he listened him out and waved him off with an 'I'll think about it.'

 

"Which of them was it anyway?"

 

Victor ' s expression, of course, brightened with the small success. "See? You just blatantly said no. We may be on the same wavelength for all we know."

 

"-for the wrong reasons, given the case."

 

"Not at all. I actually liked his character interpretation."

 

"Sure you did," Yakov sighed.

 

"Just tell me the guy you had in mind. Let's have a proper character discourse," Victor went on brightly, his face in his hands, all endearing. This time, Yakov did roll his eyes at his antics.

 

***

Yuuri woke up in the morning with a feeling of general dread. He rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. The mirror above the sink didn't help with his self esteem, the scrutinizing gazes from yesterday making his puffy cheeks hang heavier on his face. He was feeling kind of distended, too, the last energy drink still weighty in his stomach.

 

Having spent too much preparing - or worrying - for the audition, he'd kept on procrastinating preparing for his exam for today. He'd stayed awake studying until 5 with just as many energy drinks, at which point he was sure he was going to die either from exhaustion or a heart attack. So he laid down for a two hours nap. His exam was at 10, but it wasn't like he was way too prepared for it. A couple hours more of revision could do him no harm.

 

He trudged to the kitchen for coffee and maybe some cereal, lamenting about his existence and college. His head reasoned he might consider some aspirin too. He found one of his housemates in the kitchen, absent-mindedly playing with a spoon in a half eaten bowl of already soggy cereal, his eyes and mind definitely far away. The guy had the same exam as Yuuri that day - he could sympathize.

 

As soon as he stepped back in the room, he made eye contact with the poster across it and he flushed. He'd drop his head in his hands and growl with the reminiscence of yesterday if his hands weren't busy and and if he didn't have to hurry to eat to get some more revision done and if college wasn't shit and if he didn't hate life.

 

He laid the items on the nightstand and dropped more than sat on his bed, running his hands across his face and through his hair, trying to get his shit together and focus.

 

He yawned, feeling dazed, his head slowly, languidly balancing in his hands - right, left, right...

 

His head snapped up, his heart beating rapidly as he fumbled for his phone.

 

 _9:43_.

_Oh god. Oh god. OH GOD!_

 

He sat up instantly, dizzy, grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor, jumping on one leg through the door as he tried to put them on while also looking for his student ID. He also grabbed a shirt off the floor in doing so - it looked kinda nappy, but it smelled alright.

 

He took sight of the ID, took it, then snatched his keys and his phone, ran towards the door, then ran back, mumbling 'shit, shit, shit' as he looked all over for some sort of pen. He found one under the bed. He raised his head in relief way too fast, slamming it against the bed board and groaned, rubbing it as he finally shuffled to the door, jumping in his shoes on his way.

 

Out of the door, he started running. He was only 5 minutes away from the university campus, thankfully, but it was already 9:51 and he was supposed to be there early.

 

His phone rang. This was really not the time. Oh, no, he couldn't afford turning down Celestino.

 

"Hey, Ciao Ciao, look, I'm on my way to an exam right now, so can I call-"

 

"Of course, of course. We'll go through details later. But might as well drop the good news. You've got the role, boy."

 

Yuuri stopped in his track, momentarily forgetting what he was all about, "Wait, what? Which role?" He's been to so many unsuccessful auditions lately, he'd lost count.

 

"The big one - the main role in Feltsman's production!" _WAAH-_

 

"Good luck at your exam - you think we can have a meeting later today?"

 

_9:54. Shit shit shit._

 

"Oh. Right. Sure. Thanks. Bye," he hung up, running again, still unable to process the reality of that phone call. In fact, he pretty much didn't. It sounded like quite the joke and Yuuri didn't know who could benefit from it.

 

"Good morning!" he breathed out, showing off his ID at the door as he made his way towards one of the remaining empty seats.

 

As he measures his breaths, he couldn't really remember any approving signs from yesterday's briefing, aside from the comment about the advantage of his disadvantageous fitness. He had even been called short during his reading.

 

This would probably turn out to be a big misunderstanding.

***

"Let me get this right. Aside from having this angsty teenager plotline about the similar names, you also choose the actual guy who has a similar name to mine to play the idiot character?" Yuri lifted up his eyes from his phone for the first time since they had arrived at the restaurant for a lunch meeting.

 

"It's the _main_ idiot character. And don't act like you didn't initially want the main idiot role," Yakov reminded him mercilessly.

 

Aside from the obvious age issue, Yuri might've been a great actor, in fact, despite downplaying himself in a teenage drama on children's TV, but while Yakov was sure Yuri would be able to  _play_ the humble, insecure main, it was still not enough for someone to look at him and believe it.

 

Yakov, as a producer, loved actual authenticity. He was all against the cliché ugly duckling trope - putting on a ponytail and a pair of glasses, perming their hair. He would put Yuri in a pair of glasses and have him play the cliché nerd as much as he would put flamboyant Victor. He wouldn't ever resort for a glassed nerd cliché, period.

 

Victor received the role of a prickly drama queen, because he was a damn prickly drama queen. Still, the skater was supposed to have a deeper underline, which he couldn't quite guarantee for in his protégés, as much as he may have cared about him - in his own way.

 

"And _yo_ u are an actual angsty teenager too - what were the odds?" Victor teased smugly with his fake I-did-nothing-wrong smile.

 

Yakov was very aware he had made this to himself. He had selected these two expecting this kind of dynamic on screen, but perhaps not behind the scenes, as well.

 

"Keep the banter for the cameras. I don't need this childish nonsense," Yakov lamented, resorting to ordering an alcoholic drink although it was barely noon.

 

"This will make us look stupid," Yuri spit a last and low reminder of his disagreement.

 

"No, this will be a benefiting source of fan jokes. They feed on these parallels. They will nitpick on every bit of information about us and our characters," Victor wiggled his eyebrows, playing with the fancy straw of his cocktail.

 

"I told you to stop that nonsense. I called you here-"

 

"-because you wanted lunch and thought you might as well be done with and get rid of us at the same time?" Victor intercepted, innocently fanning his eyelashes at an unimpressed Yakov and a scowling Yuri.

 

"Yes," Yakov replied bluntly, taking a sip from the whiskey he had just received. "Since most of the cast is confirmed now, we might as well move forward. I'll have to get through the painstaking job of finding suitable figure skaters to be your doubles on ice and arrange convenient contracts on their time and my money. So I arranged that you all get instructed in figure skating in the meantime to not look like actual dummies and I will have you-," he pointed to a confused Victor as he tapped at some events notices on his phone, "-Mr. I-really-want-to-get-involved-in-the-process, to get in touch with the rest of these rest of future 'skaters' and get some bonding in your own make-people-feel-special way. And I want the both of you to get acquainted to the other Yuuri."

 

"That's insulting of you, Yakov. Making me babysit?" Victor asked nonchalantly, definitely not as disgruntled as he described himself, though.

 

"You've worked with many of these already," Yakov went on, ignoring him, and Victor's phone beeped with the sent list of names and phone numbers. "We need an homogeneous cast into place to get it going."

 

"Why do I need bonding? My character doesn't have any friends," Yuri muttered into his milkshake.

 

"And how will he get any development if he still doesn't get any by the end of the season?"

 

"By crushing the competition."

 

"I think the other Juro is supposed to do that," Victor clicked his tongue.

 

"So the other Juro gets the prize and I get the meaning of friendship?" Yuri narrowed his eyes.

 

"My character literally only gets that. Why should yours be above?" Victor commented absentmindedly, smirking into his phone.

 

"Yours doesn't need any more medals," Yuri countered, crossing his arms.

 

"Nothing is decided yet. We're still in check with the writers," Yakov clarified as a matter of fact.

 

"Right. I think I will start bonding with the other Yuuri, first thing," he went on texting energetically with a grin. "We have an important dynamic to pull off."

 

Yakov suppressed a groan.

 

"Do I wanna know?" Yuri sighed into his half finished drink.

 

Yakov imperceptibly shook his head, asking for a second whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's no proper YOI until Victor ' s character is very ambiguous in his goals and Yuuri is an aimless human disaster, amirite?
> 
> I had this idea a while ago and had it drafted for a while. Yesterday, with a couple glasses of wine, I thought I might as well get the pilot ready and see the response it gets, and since there's a few people interested to see this developing, thought I might as well give it a shot.


	3. Chapter 3

"I mean, I was there to see most of the other actors go in. And they'd be in there for a while. A guy said how he had to run through 5 scenes, all with totally different emotions and then there's me , pushed out the door after one scene. I didn't even get to run a scene with Yuri Plisetsky either."

 

"Sometimes, 'enough' means 'enough to get the job', Yuuri," Celestino reassured him. He had had his doubts when he took Yuuri in five years ago. The American movie market was definitely very restrictive for Asian actors as it was and a lack of self confidence really can't help in an industry where standing out is crucial. But the boy was a remarkable actor nonetheless. He had an amazing range of expressions and gestures which he adapted and transitioned throughout the character's emotions with incredible vivacity. But self confidence could make it or break it for him in a cast call. Or even in the production-

 

"Listen, Yuuri, you've got the role now - that's behind. Now I want you to concentrate exclusively on Juro and his development. You'll probably be personally invited to meet your new team and be briefed about your pre-production schedule by the end of the week, so-"

 

Yuuri's phone started ringing. He flushed, shaken as he tried to get the phone out, "I'm so sorry, I thought I left it on 'silent', I don't even recognise this, I-"

 

"Is it an unsaved number? No, no, do answer. Might be from the Juro!!!on ice team."

 

"Oh," Yuuri deadpanned, picking up reluctantly. "Hello?" His eyes widened and his mouth started slightly trembling. "Ah, y-yes, hello, yes, of course. Yeah, thanks. Yeah. Sure, yes. Alright, then," he hang up, taking in a deep shaky breath.

 

"Well?" Celestino quirked his eyebrows.

 

"It was my... co-star? Victor Nikiforov?" he said it as if he was asking for a confirmation for that from Celestino. Or perhaps he was repeating his former of introduction exactly, as to not be mistaken. "He invited me to lunch tomorrow. Get-together to get acquainted and- Is that necessarily?" he asked, almost terrified.

 

"Well, it is more informal, but it is also the preferred way for a cast to get acquainted. And he's also close to Feltsman, so you can probably ask him a lot of question about the project. But really, there's nothing to worry about. That's the point, isn't it? To remove any tension or awkwardness between the actors," Celestial clarified.

 

"Right," Yuuri nodded, not looking too convinced himself.

 

Celestino sighed. Yuuri was just overwhelmed right now with his first major production looming before him. It would all be settled once he adjusted to the changes, though.

 

"Oh, but did I tell you Phichit also landed a small role in this?" he chose to change the subject for now. Yuuri would be alright.

 

***  
Yuuri had miscalculated. Literally. And badly. He had another exam that day at 10. And he was supposed to meet Victor at 12. But he hadn't realized this exam would be 3 hours. And he did hurry, ok, but a 3 hours exam has 3 hours worth of subjects designed and Yuuri was no genius student. He managed to leave half an hour early, but he still had time to lose to get to the restaurant itself (an issue he hadn't considered a problem since he imagined leaving a 2 hours exam a bit early).

 

He breathed hard, scanning the place, kind of hoping to find Victor (to apologize, at least), but mostly hoping he didn't.

 

"Ah, Yuuri," Victor ended up noticing him first, leaving him with no time to prepare, neither the apology nor his expression. "Only Aeroflot kept me waiting for as much as you did," he told him with a schooled serene expression and a blinding smile as Yuuri approached him, frightened.

 

"I am so sorry! I had this exam and it ended up taking more time than I thought and-'" he burst before he could control himself, almost pleasingly.

 

"Oh, so you are in college, then?" Victor let go of it completely and suddenly.

 

"Graduating," he supplied dryly after the earlier outburst, pursing his lips. _If his exam grades allow it_ , he thought grimly.

 

Why couldn't the ground swallow him right there and then? Putting on a brave face - or what he hope at least didn't show how terrified he was, Yuuri sat down stiffly, already wondering about which was the polite amount of time until he could come up with an excuse to get going. But Victor was settling deeper in his seat as if this was going to take a while.

 

"Are you doing something art related then?" Victor went on conversationally.

 

"Actually, it's business management-"

 

 _A more realistic second plan, Yuuri_ , was what his parents have told him.

 

"-I took my acting classes on the side." Yuuri realized perhaps this should be a two - way conversation, but what possibly he could ask Victor Nikiforov about that wasn't some magazine material or too personal for it.

 

"And I thought _I_ had a busy schedule," Victor remarked as the waiter came around. Victor looked fresh and fabulous, like he did belong in a fancy restaurant, but Yuuri had the barely slept then thrown out of bed and on his way look. It didn't help that he also had the bad habit of clenching his fists through his hair when he was stressed out, which happened a lot during exams. Way to feel inappropriate in any room where an actor should belong.

 

"Yuuri, did you ever skate?" Victor asked after the waiter was gone.

 

"Not really, I haven't since I was a ki- oh, god, was I supposed to?" he couldn't help but widen his eyes at the prospect.

 

"Ah, nothing to worry about. I was just wondering," Victor waved a hand, all smiles. "We'll all receive adequate training. Yakov wants us all to move properly on ice within the next few months, but-"

 

"Properly...?"

 

"Well enough for the basic moves in our choreography. We'll have our professional figure skating doubles for all the real hard work, yes, but, you know, there are angles we'll have to fill in, you get me. But, you know, on the long run, it's just dancing with a twist. And only two choreographies per person. Oh, three for you. Three. Since I think they're planning you to learn one of mines, too-"

 

Thankfully, Victor seemed to be much of a talker and needed little input from Yuuri to keep going. Unfortunately, every bit of information he added did nothing but increase Yuuri's dread in relation to all the things he was supposed to pull off and the many ways he could ultimately fail to.

 

Victor was also talking like there was definitely not possible way Yuuri didn't have some background in dancing, but all he ever had to do with dancing were the painstaking ballet lesson he's taken up until graduating high school as an excuse to avert from a social life after school and that one time in his second year of college that he was too embarrassed to even ever consider mentioning when he got convinced by a classmate to enroll in this six weeks poll dancing class because it was free and college students learn to gravitate towards free things like a mole to a flame. Well, not that he'd been bad at it, though, even if he'd never made it - or have been convinced to make it - to a lesson without two prior shots of tequila.

 

He doubted drunk student nights' party swaying could be considered proper dancing training, not that he'd personally had many of those too. Especially since he's gotten a part time job to help with the expenses. Which he had a shift to go to in a few hours.

 

Victor did talk a great deal, but it took Yuuri some cold thinking later on to realize he hasn't supplied much information aside from vague mentions and some details about the pre-production process. Going away when Victor has received a call, Yuuri wasn't quite sure what the point of the meeting had been. It didn't feel much as a 'getting to know each other' but Victor just asking a ridiculous amount of information about Yuuri. Some of the questions he didn't even answer, like those about his love life and friends in general, which had felt like very unnecessary intelligence concerning Yuuri's personal life, honestly.

 

***

Yuuri had met Phichit on the Internet, during a League of Legends match. They had been doing great together and eventually exchanged contact info by the end of the game.

 

Soon enough, they ended up talking about more than gaming. Phichit's found out he was in college and Yuuri now knew that Phichit was also a viner and an youtuber. As it often happens online, it took a longer while than necessary for them to realize they both lived in Brooklyn. Yuuri reluctantly agreed to meet up for some Starbucks. Chatting through technology is always easy, but he was not the best conversationalist in person. Luckily, Phichit was friendly enough for the both of them without being pushy and it didn't take long to feel comfortable around him.

 

Unlike Yuuri, who was uselessly procrastinating online, it turned out Phichit was actually cashing in out of playing games all day. He co-rented a house with other students he had met through the game, which was a convenient and cheap arrangement and he had invited Yuuri when one of them moved out, since he's been complaining a lot about the dorms.

 

Yuuri also found out that Phichit's YouTube channel and vine weren't connected to his gaming, but to his acting hobby. At that point, Yuuri felt confident to confide about his second part time job. Phichit was the first one to get in touch with Celestino.

 

"Guess who's your new Thai friend and ex rinkmate- ...rinkmate, you'd call it, right?" Phichit narrowed his eyes.

 

"Maybe?" Yuuri raised his shoulders, greedily snatching his first pumpkin spice latte of the season from Phichit - guilty pleasure.

 

"Boy, we really have to actually learn a few things about figure skating now, don't we?" Phichit laughed.

 

"We'll also have to learn to skate decently, too, I hear," Yuuri said, slurping from his straw.

 

"Oh, I can skate. I can do a couple simple spins, too," Phichit said enthusiastically.

 

"You can?" Yuuri chocked on his drink. What if he ends up being the only one who doesn't. "I was hoping we're in this together!"

 

"Oh, they will probably ask more of us than gliding across the ice if it's supposed to be 'a few months ', so we probably are," Phichit reassured, pondering on it for a moment before just shrugging and typing a vague 'figure skating' into a Google search.

 

"Hm, these are links to more different competitions in here...? You think we should begin this by finding out the full yearly competitions' schedule and structure or maybe the scoring system or-? You know, we should probably just watch some prominent guys in the branch skating for now, ya know-," he started typing again, then stopped, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. "Do _you_ know any figure skating guys' names?"

 

Yeah, they definitely should start somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Phichit, the viner? Yes, this happens before the downfall of vine, just in time for Juro!!! on ice to air at the same time as Yuri!!! on ice did)


	4. Chapter 4

Both Yuuri and Phichit were supposed to meet their personal trainer now. And then the nutritionist. Then their figure skating instructor. And later their choreographer. They'd have costume fittings. All of their clothes would be tailored to them. Their measurements and weight would be checked constantly. They would have promotional shoots. They would have table readings and rehearsal. All up until filming even to be considered. 

Yuuri was just now in session with the personal trainer and he was already overwhelmed with the process.

Christophe Giacometti was vibrant and cheeky and too overly exhausting and tactile for Yuuri. He looked him up and down with a more critical eye than the casting director had. Christophe didn't seem to only deliberate on his present state, but seemed to know exactly what laid underneath his sheet clothes and of fat, the exact centimetres of which area he's going to grow, the one that's going to recede, the exact amount of time he needed between this mould to the next.

"Lovely," Christophe contemplated at his third roundabout. "You'll be my most ambitious work for this project, Yuuri."

"That... bad...?" Yuuri couldn't help but squint his eyes and flush. This was not quite the compliment one could dream of, so he took it as it was and let it sink in. 

"Oh, no, dearest," Christophe waved his hand fleetingly. "You see," he went on, mimicking all around his body, not touching but always close to, "-getting rid of the extra weight and pumping some muscle and modeling them around is something easy, but you, you've got to look like a neglected athlete before you look like an athlete - there are a lot of compromises there. I'm going to build you up from within and when the time comes to skim you down, it's going to unveil all the right muscle in all the right places - a proper figure skater. I'll have to check with your double, but we're definitely here for strong thighs and a perfectly crafted behind." 

"Uh," Yuuri regarded his prospects with skepticism. 

"Ah, yes, you're going to have to fit amazingly in tight pants."

"Mr Giacometti..."

"Chris."

"Right... is that really an athlete requirement?" Yuuri narrowed his eyes. Sure, he was very much aware that a main actor needed some good aesthetics and if his face wasn't going to help much in that direction, they had to make something to work with. But he hadn't processed the thought of having to become some eye candy one way or another and probably end up with weird camera angles on his... assets. 

"Oh, it's not supposed to look good because you're a skater. It's supposed to look like the 'you've been skating some' good. I expect you have watched some skating as research yourself, Yuuri."

"Yes, maybe that detail didn't really catch my eye, in particular..."

"Didn't it? Well, I suppose it depends on which skater division you're more into," Chris grinned mischievously and winked. Yuuri wasn't quite sure what he meant, but he still felt like getting flustered by it, simply from the way Chris had said it. 

"You take this to Yuuko, our nutritionist," he handed him a small written completed sheet Yuuri had no idea when he had managed to fill it in, "You'll like the first phase: given that you need to maintain that puff and also gain some in muscle, you'll have a quite high calories allowance for now, although we'll also work quite a lot on the side, too - the muscle won't grow itself. The second half will be quite brutal on you, but let's not worry about it now."

 

***

 

"Victor," Chris said as greeting, shamelessly but methodically looking him up and down. "Did you just come by to see me or just as a formality, because you obviously don't need my help."

"You flatter me," Victor smirked, casually leaning against Chris' desk.

"I never flatter," Chris tilted his head, examining him with a set gaze from his chair. "I'm very factual. You caught the idea of how things go the first time around and just went on maintaining and chiselling yourself. You're very self sufficient, now aren't you? Makes one wonder just how many of the things in your life you keep doing on your own?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Victor playfully. 

"I'm not one of your blushing newbies, Chris, you can't trip me," Victor shook his head with a faint smile. "C'mon," he straightened himself up, "officially, I have a one hour session with you, so let's go have a drink. We're both keeping too much indoors, these days."

Chris took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "Well, you are my last appointment for the day. But should I, as your personal trainer, encourage you to drink the day before you start your training?"

"You said it yourself, I can manage myself," Victor stretched his arms upwards with a sigh. 

"You look healthy indeed," Chris sat up, shrugging on his jacket, "-but there's something off. Little sleep? Long day?" 

"Slept about 12 hours - unusually much - and I didn't do much today either," Victor said in a conversationalist manner, "-but that's not really your domain anyway, is it?" Victor raised his eyebrows. 

"Don't drop dead onto my treadmills tomorrow," Chris said pointedly with a serious expression. Then it faded out and he closed the subject casually, moving on to, "So, I heard from Yuuko, who heard it from Yakov 's secretary, who-"

"I get it," Victor fixed back his shades and cap.

"-they say you're unusually interested in your new co," Chris held the door for the both of them.

"They always make assumptions there," Victor sighed. 

"If you had left me finish, you would've heard these ones came from Yakov himself. I wouldn't have listened to anyone's assumptions, but if Feltsman is suspicious-"

"Even if it were true, why would it be so thrilling?" 

"I've had him here earlier today. Adorable. And when I'm done with sculpting that promising ass- well, I needn't say more. All in all, nice potential catch, but he's not your kind of catch. He doesn't seem like the type to be someone's catch altogether, honestly. Are you in it for the fun of chasing something different?"

Victor remained quiet for a while, deliberating on a proper answer - a truthful answer, he didn't have himself just yet. A proper answer was thus a noncommittal answer - he shrugged, "I don't know. I don't think things through much, remember," he said with the semblance of a sheepish smile. 

Chris eyed him warily, but took the hint and changed the subject.

***  
Yakov was very selective in choosing the members of his cast and crew - or that was the way he preferred to think of it. Most would rather go for ‘peculiar’ as a description. All put together, the gatherings in themselves always appeared like an inhomogeneous mishaps, a picture pulled together with unsecure patches and stitches. It was really even hard to distinguish an actual pattern in the way Feltsman chose the people to work with. Too often, they contrasted too much in personalities and work ethics, and sometimes were even known to have difficulties working together. They’d make it through, still, craft a masterpiece, then make it out declaring vehemently they were still absolutely against the other’s visions, but also agree everything turned out exactly as they wanted it to, only to be surprised themselves at the paradox of it. 

All in all, it was very often attributed to the perseverance and capability of Feltsman’s guidance, who himself always declared the process to have been painstaking and a disaster and barely to have pulled it through. Yakov, however, did always pull it through, though, perhaps - as the joke went - at the expense of his hair. The number of awards and successes as actor, director and producer (in that order) made it rather unlikely for him to have just gotten lucky every single time.  
Gossip was already out there concerning his future production. There was the theme in itself and only the fact that Yakov could sell anything managed to convince anyone he could sell this, too, and got them to pay him that ridiculous budget. There was the Victor Nikiforov, displayed in all his usefulness, and, yes, one could see the advantage of having him there, but he was a main on the right of a totally unknown actor with mediocre stats and, on the left, a young former Disney star trying to make a proper debut in the real business and, frankly, both the former had a tendency to end up badly. There were a larger number of low-profile and foreign actors, actually, the only other better known one being Jean-Jacques Leroy, not a preferred choice to add to a team where Nikiforov was, too.

 

The truth was Yakov did have an invisible iron fist around his team, no matter how costly it was to his nerves to pull it off. It was like a game of chess he played with every member of his cast and crew individually and it was definitely exhausting, but he did get results in the end. And not necessarily a planned result. But always a good result. Like a good chess player, he was planning many moves ahead, but with every unexpected tactic he had to oversee a new route. And there was always the unexpected, even with those people he knew well. But each and every one of them brought something interesting to the game, and that was the principle on which he was choosing them.

It was the third production in which he collaborated with Mari as a head-writer (although not in a row). When he first met her as a potential writer, he told her he wanted his characters to turn into actual people he could hang out with.

“These will hang out on their own. And I could already assure you, none of them will particularly like you anyway,” was what Mari had replied, taking a puff of her cigar. She started work the very next day.

Mari was a very professional, very meticulous. She had a very strong hold of the human psyche and she was never attached to any characters in particular. She treated them the way she would treat people - scrutinizing, judging, questioning. 

 

Yakov came at her with the character ideas and possible dynamics, and she’d pick them up, sort them out and hand them back to Yakov in bones and flesh, ready to hand them out to the actors. Depending on what the actors he chose managed to squeeze out of them in turn, he’d return and they’d reanalyse based on what was filmed and make decisions. It was never an ‘I want him to do that’, but ‘he would do that’ with them. 

 

"You’re being very vague about what you even want from this last minute character. No country of origin. No clear motivation. No clear ties,” Mari complained with a huff. 

“We’ve got the time to get it sorted.”

“Possibly. But will you have the time to get the actor sorted?”

 

“That will be my problem,” Yakov sat up, pulling on his coat.

“Indeed, it will,” Mari raised her eyebrows skeptically.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, been busy with other things and this interlude before the actual filming begins and characters have been introduced and all is really boring to write... I swear better things are coming up tho ;)

Yuuri soon found out why he ought to be glad for his calories allowance. After his gym hours, he was half dead and aching, and you'd think he'd barely think about eating after a few hours' torture, but, boy, as long as he could still crawl his way to the fridge, he was thankful. Sharing that thought with Phichit proved to be quite insensitive - he was on the stricter diet. Yuuri, too, had some restrictions on foods, which took out many of his favourite dishes, but still his meals could be made plenty and tasty enough for Phichit to be eyeing him grudgingly across the table, fixating him with a deadly glare as he himself chewed on a carrot. 

 

"We're starting to show progress," Chris sing - sang one of those days, scrutinising him with that calculating gaze.

 

Yuuri looked over at Phichit's growing abs, then narrowed his eyes back at Chris. He didn't need to look down at himself, feeling and being very aware of his own thick three rolls gathering on his stomach in his breathless bent position, still, almost a month into his training. All he knew was his clothes were fitting a bit tighter and Chris took that as a good sign, but with the fat now showing clearer through his shirts and not being able to fit his thighs in any pair of jeans he had used to own, Yuuri couldn’t quite get on board with the idea of progress. He couldn’t see it even in perspective. His shoulders were still narrow and, with a wide middle and even wider bottom, he looked a lot like an overweight girl, not an athlete of any kind, even less the glamorous main actor.

 

“It will make sense when we’re burning down the middle,” Chris dismissed him.

 

“I will still be disproportionate,” Yuuri nearly wined. 

 

The extra weight also made him feel awkward, stiff and self conscious during choreography sessions. At this point of preparations, these ‘choreography’ sessions were about practicing their pose and flexibility. Yuuri had used to effortlessly have flawless pose and twist and turn and lunge without breaking a sweat. And, alright, he’s had a break from ballet, these past few years, but if last year’s stripping lessons were proof of anything, he should still be able to do that and more - much more. But these days, with all of those actors around him and Minako’s -  their instructor - eyes on him, he was like a prop, tense and unmalleable. He felt like he was expected to stretch in an wooden suit. Phichit advised him to show up drunk. Yuuri’s answer varied from a time to another and could be described as unkind in the least.

 

He couldn't blame it anyway on the fat for what a terrible ice skater he was, however. He had tried it once as a kid and he had better memories of it. True, he’d had a friend to hold on to back then. 

 

Maybe it was just this underlying thought that losing weight and looking good would solve all of his problems and flaws. With a slow metabolism and a grand love for food (not to mention being a comfort eater), his weight tended to fluctuate wildly and uncontrollably. There was no measuring unless he forced that measure into practice himself, dieting and exercising under the pretense of trying to be healthier. Throughout elementary school and high school, he had managed to get through those motions smoothly, settling into habits he actually grew to enjoy. The ballet hours have been great exercise, but also great time with flow and music, mostly by himself, since ballet wasn’t so much popular in his hometown.

 

He headed out to the showers as Phichit waved him off with a mention that he’d stick around a few more minutes to discuss on a few things with Christophe. His phone started buzzing in the hall and Yuuri sighed in anticipation. It wasn’t like he was a very sought after person, so the list of people that could be contacting him was rather narrow and since his best friend and personal trainer were right in the room he left behind, there were Celestino or his family remaining. Hopefully not his family. They still asked him what were his plans, now that he was graduating, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell them about the role yet. Firstly, from the anticipation of it being played off as a mistake in his career prospects and  honestly, there was also a second part of him that didn’t expect he’d even have this job for much longer, given how bad he’s been doing on overall and production hasn’t even started yet. It’s not unheard of or unusual for actors to be replaced along the way either for scandals or proving as inadequate for the job.

 

He glanced at the screen and gulped inwardly. Yeah, right, there was also that option, lately.  The A-lister Victor Nikiforov had been contacting him constantly these days, with empty talks and coffee meetings, god knew for what. Yuuri guessed Victor was expecting to find  _ something _ in him that would explain him being chosen and worthy enough to cast to star alongside him. But Yuuri had nothing special to offer, no special acting connection to create. But Victor still seemed to enjoy all the information he received from Yuuri and the wrong footed jokes he got from Yuuri, or he was just that good of an actor.

 

“Hi,” he'd normally pick up lamely. He had tried ignoring the calls before. He’d get a few more attempted calls and a few worried texts instead, so he chose to avoid that lately. 

 

Yuuri sighed. Victor was overwhelming and Yuuri was always left exhausted and dreading after any moment spent - in any way, directly and indirectly - with the older man. Not that Victor literally did anything to cause that. Not that it was intended. Not that Victor wasn’t everything charming and helpful and insightful and interesting. Not that Yuuri could explain. 

 

Victor gave him more attention than he was due, he couldn’t avoid the consciousness of that. He was showing interest in Yuuri as a person and in Yuuri’s character and he was asking Yuuri’s opinion on Juro - his character - and in Mikhail, too - Victor’s character - as if Yuuri could give someone like Victor advice. He sometimes wondered - or most of times - if Victor was just honestly worried that Yuuri would fuck up if left to his own devices - Yuuri himself definitely was.

 

He let the phone ring until its last. Guess he was taking that chance today.

 

***

 

"Agh," Yuri cried out in frustration as he tripped on his own feet and fell to the ground again. This was ridiculous. He fucking hated ballet.  He fucking hated everything about this role. He was not the main. He had no proper storyline or background. He was just added in to be tossed aside for the plot. But his agent had made it very clear that he had to do this project if he wanted a real chance at anything serious. It was very convenient for putting his own name out there, by having it fading in on the same screen as notable film industry names: Nikiforov, Feltsman,  Popovich... But this was scraping off every bit of identity and dignity he felt he still possessed. 

 

"Fuck this!" he snarled, throwing one of his ballet shoes, with no certain target. "Fuck it all!" He threw the second one, just as aimlessly. 

 

Only the shoe hit. A face. Quite hard. The face seemed initially taken aback and not sure how to react to this. 

 

_ Shit _ . 

 

" Oh, shit, man, sorry," he gulped, mortified, scanning the figure before him. 

 

The newcomer's eyes first scanned the shoe now in his hand, then finally dropped a hard, scanning gaze on Yuri himself - Yuri shivered. If looks could kill-

 

" I apologize. I thought the studio would be empty. So the schedule implied," the young man answered coldly - polite, but obvious by the inflictions of his voice that he was questioning Yuri's inopportune presence. 

 

"Yeah, it wasn't booked - that's why I came. You, too, I suppose, since obviously you didn't book it yourself," Yuri replied, recollecting himself. Fuck the guy. After all, it could be supposed he intruded on Yuri as much as Yuri intruded on him.  They were on equally bad footing here, so he wasn't going to back down. 

 

"I don't suppose you are actually a dancer," the guy seemed to have come to a decision and closed the door behind him, dumping his bag in a corner. 

 

Yuri colored, guessing by the way the remark was spoken that he's seen the poor excuse of a pose he attempted earlier.

 

"I don't suppose you are a dancer either," Yuri snarled back with little to nothing to back him and his venom up. Although far from tall, the guy was strategically toned - his skintight equipment strongly supported it. The way his workout black tank top fit over his tanned skin almost gave Yuri shivers - damn, it was hard still being a hormonal teenager. Yuri chose to look him in his face instead, which proved to be just a lesser mistake. With chiseled cheekbones and jaw and deep set black eyes, he was swoon worthy, red mark from Yuri's shoe considered.

 

"No, I'm not," the other young man replied shortly. The momentary break before his reply made Yuri question whether his staring was studious, too.  "Minako said the studio was free for me to use during these breaks," he went on to a different subject right away. "I didn't know she said that to everyone."

 

Yuri colored again, finding himself in the position to admit, "She didn't."

 

"Why so desperate to be here, then? It's not like you seemed to be enjoying yourself?" he inquired, not even paying Yuri attention any longer as he began to stretch. 

 

"Why are  _ you _ here, if you're not a dancer?" Yuri turned it around, irritated at the sudden lack of attention he was paid. "I thought Minako was working exclusively for Feltsman's project these months," he complained out loud, realising just after that he was giving information about a project not yet disclosed to the public.

 

"So you're an actor for that figure skating series, then?" Otabek looked up at him casually, not quite the knowing answer he had expected. “Ah,” the guy frowned, seemingly realising the confusion, “I have worked quite some with Minako and I still am,” he rather vaguely clarified. “I know Feltsman, too,” he added, concentrating mainly on stretching a leg in a way that flexed his muscles in a very unholy manner. “She’s making an exception for me?”

 

“And Feltsman is alright with that?” He didn’t mean it to sound as a reproach - he just knew Yakov quite well and thus was honestly curious.

 

The guy smirked knowingly, even amused, Yuri thought. “Oh, he’s up for this one exception, too.”

 

Yuri was intrigued and wanted to demand more information - or maybe jhe just loved gossip, honestly, especially if it involved secretive Feltsman. And he would’ve done so, if it weren’t for a most unlucky interruption.

 

“My schedule said I had to deal with  _ one _ skater right now,” Minako pushed the door open. “Plisetsky, what are you still doing here?”

 

“I’m supposed to look like an ace in ballet and I don’t - you said so yourself!” Yuri snarled, balling his fists.

 

“You’re acing nothing without proper coordination. Just talk Feltsman into admitting you into extra hours. He already did so for Katsuki.” Hell, no. He was not going to be that one other loser who needed extra babysitting to get some pirouettes right. 

 

“Right,” he mumbled, picking his things up, throwing one more glance at the other boy, only to find him looking intently at Yuri as the embarrassing scene went on. He didn’t seem ready to avert his eyes anytime - Yuri unintentionally did so. 

 

“Alright, Otabek, you said you were going to show me some music today-” 

 

_ Otabek. _ That was  _ something _ . Yuri wished he could lag behind. Listen some more. But Minako was a fucking hawk and the room was soundproof. What the hell did she mean by there being more than one ‘figure skaters’? Since he was connected to Yakov somehow, was he also part of the project? Or was he not actually connected to Yakov himself, but it was just that Feltsman had to let it be because  _ Minako _ asked for this exception? Then what? Was he an actual figure skater? That sounded too far fetched. Or maybe he was not too well known? 

 

Hell, he was too curious a person not to try to get the hang of this. But how?


	6. Chapter 6

“You  _ are _ a figure skater,” Yuri bumped right in the next day, unannounced and un-introduced. But tact and politeness weren’t like him all the same. He caught Otabek mid-stretch, surprised, eyebrows quirked, but not unsettled. “Like, a  _ real _ figure skater,” Yuri reinforced, probably more for himself still to take it in, rather than Otabek who was definitely unmoved by that bit of information.

 

“And you are Yuri Plisetsky. Used to do kid’s shows or something?” Otabek straightened up, not quite as taken and awestruck with his own revelation. 

 

Yuri colored. As much as he would’ve liked to counter that and although there maybe could’ve been better words to put it, it was the gospel truth. It did dawn on him that Otabek had looked him up, too, or had been at least interested enough to ask Minako for clarification.

 

“Aren’t you, like, Russian? Like, supposed to be in Russia? Training?” 

 

“If you would’ve studied your target material a bit, you’d know it’s the off-season. I’ve got ice shows to attend round here and I’ve got some business with Minako in the meantime-” he said, gathering his things in his bag, “-who you eluded today,” he added with a look full of meaning.

 

“Eh,” was the entire response he’s received from Yuri on that, not mentioning how he’s been waiting to see Minako on her way out so he could make an appearance. 

 

Otabek loosely hanged his bag by his shoulder and started making his way to the door.

 

“I like your skating style,” Yuri blurted out. His envied complexion was a total nuisance just now, with all that oncoming redness, annoyingly creeping up his neck and creeping into his cheeks and towards the tips of his ears.  

 

“Hn?” Otabek did turn around, but it was altogether a very neutral reaction.

 

“That’s the kind of skater I’d want to play, not my prima ballerina impression of one,” he admitted, almost forcing himself to. He didn’t know exactly why it was so important to make that statement to Otabek. He was maybe expecting someone to agree with him on having the better idea, at least when some flattering of the other was basically involved. But he meant it. He had been supposed to research ice skating for work alone. He couldn’t say he’d ever been a huge fan out of it and neither that he was becoming one now. He could understand the craft, the athleticism behind it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still find it extremely boring. Otabek last season’s routines, though. He moved with power, captivating. It stole his attention from the very beginning and kept it. By the end, he’s found himself grinning like an idiot. 

“But aren’t you actors supposed to interpret things?” Otabek asked, opening the door and keeping it so. “You can still do what you’re character’s supposed to do but do it your way. The way you’d see it. Wouldn’t that give it more essence, rather than a linear person?” he added, still kind of waiting. It dawned on Yuri that he was waiting on him, to pass through the door he held first.

 

He walked, just with initial reluctance, getting his confirmation by having Otabek following, too, right after and they advanced side by side.

 

“I can’t just go out there and do whatever I want. They’d get the scene cut and make me redo it the way they planned it.” This was strangely not awkward, having this random conversation with someone who had nothing to do with the whole project - or the whole acting thing altogether.

 

“You can if you’ve got it approved by Yakov. He’s even into that whole complex character depth stuff. He’d be persuadable if you say it the way he wants to hear it,” Otabek pressed. He had a somewhat lazy, but confident strut, that somehow kept him in line with Yuri’s hurried, but smaller steps.

 

“How do you even know stuff like that about Yakov?” Yuri narrowed his eyes. Really now, he might’ve found out a few things about the project from Minako, but it didn’t quite explain talking with so much confidence about Feltsman himself.

 

“I may have been in the position to hear some of his rants once in a while.” Otabek hardly brought any light in the matter with that remark and by the small smirk in the corner of his mouth he knew it, too - Yuri was momentarily interested more about the dimple it had dug.

 

“And Yuri-,” Otabek added, when they reached the point where it seemed they had to go separate ways. “You do need assistance and supervision if you’re going to have extra practice. It’s truly no use on your own, especially if you’re a beginner.”

 

“Ya, alright,” Yuri answers neutrally, raising his shoulders noncommittally, hands dug deep into his trousers’ pockets as Otabek disappears into the showers with a last tentative smile.

 

He almost asked him if  _ he _ ’d help Yuri instead. But he had had to once in his life act reasonably and bite his tongue. That would’ve been a far reach. The guy was a busy athlete, not some part-time technician he could steal some time from. He also almost asked where his ice shows would be so he could stream them, but it’d have made him sound too much like a fanboy and god forbid that mortification, of being seen by someone with the same alarm he saw his own fans. The fact that the thought had crossed his mind to begin with was worrisome enough in Yuri’s honest opinion.  

 

 

***

 

A wardrobe fitting session still didn't make this feel any realer. Being in Juro’s training clothes, in his coats and sweaters - still not real.

 

The glasses looked strange on him. He reminded himself to squint once in awhile when he didn’t have them on. He tried them pair by pair, with different sizes, different shapes, different colours, trying to find the right alignment, the right feeling. They came to a blue rimmed pair and the lady behind him told him blue is definitely his colour and went on about incorporating a shade of it into his free skate costume. 

 

No one had told him exactly, and the glasses seemed to be there as an aesthetic choice, but he imagined Juro to be farsighted. He imagined him in the middle of the ice rink, the stadium’s noise a faraway buzz, the world around him a fuzzy blur, and how he lost himself in his music-

 

_ Real _ . 

 

He took one more look in the mirror, a currently much thinner mannequin sitting somehow more proudly than him on the side, all plastic and iron as it was, clothed a black tracksuit with the Japanese team emblems and a light blue, thicker matching jacket draped over it. There’s a badge hung around its neck and it carried Juro’s identity and Yuuri’s picture. He walked behind the mannequin, aligning himself with it, his glasses clad face perking up from right above the whole of that costume, the whole of that posture.

 

_ Is it, though? Is it real? _

 

“Katsuki, you have to head out for the table reading,” a woman’s head showed up through the cracked door. 

 

Victor was not in the room when he got there and he was glad of it. He hadn’t called him back and Victor hadn’t attempted to contact him in any way again and he was most anxious about the whole business. On one hand, he was almost relieved for not being in that constant panic about his interactions with Victor and how he may fuck up once and forever. On the other hand, this may have been his fuck up once and forever and Victor might have gotten tired of Yuuri and his oddness, which he also didn’t want. He liked Victor. He looked up to Victor. Despite all the constant panicking, he enjoyed the attention, even if it was just from professional interest and not a real interest in befriending Yuuri. It may have been a vain thought, but he didn’t want that to end.

 

“I heard from Yakov he’s not here because he’s doing a photoshoot for your posters,” Yuri snickered, taking the seat next to him, as if he read his mind. Indeed, he may have been looking around the room, looking confused, but was it that obvious that he’d be looking for Victor?

 

“My… posters…,” Yuuri deadpanned.

 

“Your guy has all of those posters of ‘his idol’ in his room, remember? How much more embarrassing can your character get, honestly?”

 

That had Yuuri thinking of his own couple posters of Victor back in his room and his cheeks heated up “Yeah, very embarrassing,” he mumbled.

 

“Victor’s also thought of as too good to be forced to attend these table readings, too, apparently,” the younger boy added kind of spitefully and he’s not sure if they’re still having a conversation or if the young actor was just monologuing on his own.

 

“Yuri-,” Yuuri piped up, finding the sound of his own name while addressed to someone else coming out weird, “-how come you are here today? I thought we were doing only the reading for my overweight part of the story.” 

 

“That takes place in most of episode one. And apparently  _ I _ could use some extra reading for  _ my _ parts, because  _ why. fucking. Not _ ?” He crosses his arms defiantly. “Anyway, this is also kind of fucking dumb - scheduling our filming around your weight scale-”

 

“ _ Juro _ ’s weight scale,” Yuuri rectified, but having had that embarrassing realization for a while himself.

 

The other just shot him a nasty look. Yuuri was suddenly remembered that their scene was mostly Yuri shouting at and insulting him and he was not looking forward to that, especially given the youngster’s mood’s starting point to begin with.

 

***

 

“My honest opinion on this is, I can’t believe you just come over unannounced, draped yourself over my couch and started wondering about why your latest crush doesn’t like you,” Chris noted dryly, then sighed, “All of that glitter on you will stick right on. Why didn’t you just clean up that make-up before leaving the photoshoot?”

 

“Can you take this seriously?” Victor dramatically flailed both his arms high up in the air in response.

 

“Under these circumstances, hardly. But we’re friends - or at least hungover buddies - so I’ll try.” He raised Victor’s feet, sat down in their place, then placed them back down on his lap, going on with a sigh, “The funniest part is you’re in that stage where you’re not even denying or being evasive about the subject anymore, nope, just purely defeated and desperate-”

 

“I’m not  _ desperate _ . I’m getting mixed signals here and I’m-  _ confuuuused _ ?”

 

“Maybe he’s not even into guys?” Chris supplied wearily.

 

“I know I didn’t fill in all of the details about that night we met, but I can assure you - he likes guys,” Victor assured, gesturing his vehemence with his hands.

 

“Maybe he’s closeted and that night was a slip-up and that’s why he never mentions it,” Chris then rectified with an inquiring tone. 

 

“But  _ I _ do know. It’s not like I would say anything or-”

 

“Tch, tch, you couldn’t possibly get how it works because it was that easy for you,” Chris remarked knowingly, crossing his arms behind his head.

 

“What do you mean?” Victor propped himself up, looking at him.

 

“Well, let’s see…” Chris took in a deep breath, “You determinedly and proudly identified yourself as bisexual before the masses by the time you learnt that term and people take whatever you give them from  _ you _ \- especially your fanbase. They can still say, ‘at least he’s not  _ all gay _ , though’. And if you were ‘all gay’, they’d just say ‘why are all the cute ones gay?’ and fangirl over you all the same because who you are is unattainable for most female population all the same, so it makes little difference in their subconsciousness. Which solves it for the people you work with, too. You’re still bringing in all of that money-”

 

“Yeah,  _ that _ I know,” he answered - faint, drained, gruff. He’s quiet for a while.

 

“What do I do, though?” he asked eventually.

 

“So not giving up, I get it. You know, you make me really curious - what it is all about, what’s with all of the pinning. But I’m leaving it as it is - for now. Just be honest, but not very direct, you know. Like, take it slow, settle some boundaries, see how it goes-”

 

***

 

“What’s the deal?” Mari looked up at Yakov across her desk, taking a drag.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky called me about his character. I said I’ll talk with the writers about it,” Yakov spoke from the door, not showing any intention of coming in for some kind of longer conversation.

 

“Go on,” she encouraged neutrally.

 

“That was it. The subject in itself is what you warned me he’d get to. So since you had it planned, there’s no measure needed - just letting you know.”

 

“Wonderful,” she went as far as to smile at the confirmation.

 

Yakov kind of feared her sometimes. But then again he was just the same. 


End file.
